Craving
by UraniaChang
Summary: Surely it's not much for a guy to ask for a cup of decent coffee everyday, right?


Title: Craving (I was gonna call it 'No Name' because titles suck...)

Author: Urania Chang

Fandom: X-Men (movie&comic)

Pairing: Cyclops/Wolverine; Scott Summers/Logan

Beta: rachel_martin64 , secretthought

Warning:Subtle Slash mainly in words, and a petulant Scott.

Rating: PG

Claim: Not mine, but if I ever got a hold of Scott Summers, not even Emma could take him away from me!

Author's note: Fluff born out of my craving for caffeine because I'm banned against it. :(

Summary: It's not too much to ask for a cup of decent coffee for a guy who risks his life day in day out, right?

Ps. If there are still mistakes, you know it's my fault. :P

6:30 in the morning. A DangerRoom session starts at 7:00, followed by classes starting at 8:30 and lasting throughout the day, with geometry as the morning's first subject.

I hate Mondays.

I know I'm supposed to be a responsible, disciplined type of person. I suppose I m, but that doesn't mean I don't have my off days. Especially when I can't even get access to my necessary, life-saving dose of caffeine, the best type I can get my hands on. If I can't have a mutation I can control, at least I can have a cup of decent coffee every day. And I detest Cajun coffee with every fiber of my being. Don't tell Remy, it'll hurt his self-esteem, of which he hasn't got much left since he broke up with the love of his life, again. You'd think they'd be bored with the routine already. I know I am, but I keep my mouth shut. Hell, maybe they enjoy the break-ups.

You know stomach ache can't compete with a massive, tap-dancing-rhino-type migraine, EVER, and if I'm allowed to come up with a new execution method, it'll be transformer-leveled-and-same-sized migraine death, let's see how many of those scumbags around the world want to have a taste of that.

Maybe I should talk to the Professor about the idea.

I miss my special brand of imported black coffee. I look for it everywhere, up to and including the Professor's private suite, and find nothing aside from a box of letters exchanged between Charles and our greatest enemy - but hey, I like Uncle Erik because he sends me a big box of my favorite coffee beans every year on my birthday. It's almost enough reason to switch sides. Erik's just as much addicted to caffeine as I am, no surprise. I suppose I know there's no hope of finding those special coffee beans Charles buys from a shop from 7th Avenue that you need a password to get into - need I say more? But I still have to try, don't I? The Summers' legendary stubborn streak has helped me out in almost every situation so far, but obviously not this time.

Oh, it's 6:45 already, dammit!

I can't believe he means it this time. My life/reputation/career all depend on those fantastically-favored little magical beans! It wasn't a big deal, the stomach ache. I mean, I'll cut back on the coffee, eventually and I'm taking Hank's pills like a good boy. It's not like I plan to swim in black coffee for the rest of my life! And that bastard just has to be overprotective. He even quit smoking his beloved cigars around me, said it's no good for my health. Well, not that I don't agree with him on that one, but enough is enough! Even if this time his target is a bag of imported coffee beans. I think he even asked Hank if there's any chance for a Skrull to disguise itself as a bag of coffee beans. "They're imported, you can never be too careful about imported stuff!" was exactly what he said to me in that gruff voice of his which usually turns me on but not this time. I'm cranky in the morning, I have hypotension and that's why I need my cup of coffee which I still haven't had. I stalk into the school dining hall feeling outraged.

"Sit down and eat your toast and cereal, Slim. You get hot milk, you take the pills with it, no coffee of any kind for you for as long as Furball says no. I'm sorry to do this but hell, no, actually this is fun."

My tormentor has the nerve to preach to me, but there's an audience, so I flop down into a chair, fuming, and start digging into my breakfast, with only 10 minutes left until practice.

A bunch of girls are giggling behind their pieces of toasts and cups of coffee - they have the nerve to drink coffee in front of me - and even some boys are giggling, too. John and Bobby, and Remy, I guess. Good, they're not going to find anything to be amused about once they set foot in the Danger Room. I'm going Attila the Hun on them, just watch.

"It's only ten minutes until my DangerRoom session, I need my cup of coffee to stay awake, what am I supposed to do out in the field if I can't keep my eyes open?"

"I'm sure adrenalin will take care of the problem. And if anything goes wrong, you've got me there to catch ya."

That Bastard. He knows not to talk like that outside of our bedroom! Now everyone is outright laughing, winking, whistling, and applauding enthusiastically. He even winks back at them. Bastard!

I glare, but obviously without my dose of caffeine my glare isn't as strong as it used to be. Laugh it up, you brats, you're gonna feel it in less than five minutes.

I hope Magneto, the Skrulls or some other bored supervillain attacks a coffee shop today. I'm gonna need the extra adrenalin, and the chance to steal some coffee beans.


End file.
